The Awakening
by Setkia
Summary: Lyle House is vile. Waking up in the morning, surrounded by confining walls is suffocating. I need to get out more, I need to explore; I need to run. The basketball field outside only covers so much space. I need more to run. To breathe. To feel free. The Summoning, Derek's Point of View.


_Author's Note: Considering how much I'm writing, I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to update this soon. I know, I know, those who have read __**So Sneaking Into A Movie Star's Trailer Wasn't The Best Plan of Action**__ want to kill me because it's been like a year since I updated that and who am I to start another long story after I'm still juggling rewriting __**Twilight**__, __**Her Werewolf In Windswept Fur, Senseless**__ and then there's my own projects including a French murder mystery novel for school. Summer project I took on. Stupid idea, but anyway, moving on. I just REALLY wanted to rewrite the__** Darkest Powers**__ series but by Derek's point of view cause we all love Derek and I think I can get inside his mind. On top of this, while Kelley Armstrong is a very good author, I must admit, every now and then she tends to lack in the description department so I'm going to try and fix that. It's like she really likes description for moments like Derek's Changing but it's not really there for other scenes that would've been nice like when Chloe's running or Summoning, I feel like it could be better described though since Derek can't see the ghosts, it's kinda hard. Anyway, if anyone wants me to actually continue this, tell me in your review. Also, I know this is a long author's note but I'm almost done; I wrote this bit of the story before I finished __**The Reckoning**__ and it's called__** the Awakening**__ because am I the only one who thinks Derek comes alive around Chloe? Whenever I do a rewrite, I try to have the most exact format I possibly can so I'm giving it the best shot I can. I don't own the __**Darkest Powers**__ series either. Last but not least it's a little Alternate Universe but only this chapter. I just chose a moment in Derek's life before Chloe that I thought was a good thing to write about. The thing was my brain thought he was like, 7 when he broke the boy's spleen but then I realized I was wrong so he might seem a little childish. Also, last but not least: the rest of the story should be pretty accurate, I'm going to have the book next to me as I write the scenes and if you want me to do the whole series, I will but I need you to tell me in your reviews if you think this is going anywhere. Again, this chapter is somewhat Alternate Universe by accident! 5 reviews or more will tell me for sure to write the story!_

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**Six Months Earlier**

HE SAT IN THE cold, white room, waiting.

The other patients watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, gripping the chair tightly. His fingers tightened around the leather and the cold metal of the frame didn't even make him flinch. He refused to rub his arms as the cold hit him and didn't blink, staring at the wall ahead of him as his knuckles turned white.

It wasn't supposed to bend that way-

He gritted his teeth, trying not to move, not even breathe as he heard the sounds of sick people and the rolling of gurneys. He ignored the smell of hand sanitizer and listened instead intently to the sound of the machines, working hard to aid the ill. He bit his lip, grinding his teeth as he looked at the _AN APPLE A DAY KEEPS THE DOCTOR AWAY_ sign across from him. He wanted to scoff but instead sat still, leaving others thinking he was a statue.

He knew he was strong but-

His knuckles turned whiter as he continued to stare, his emerald-green eyes cold and harsh, as though to burn a hole through the grinning doctor's face whom smiled brightly.

_Why are you so happy? There are people who are in pain, people who're losing their lives, why are you so annoyingly happy?_

The poster was mocking him. All these people who were getting treated, who would be healed from their injuries and with no worries at all that horrible things would happen to them were mocking him. No worry at all that maybe they _wouldn't_ make it or that they were injured beyond repair. Some wounds a band-aid couldn't heal.

This was one of those wounds.

If he hadn't provoked him-

But no, it was his fault. Someone hadn't taken over his body. He was still able to function. The adrenaline rush didn't take away his sanity. He had known what was happening, had watched the events unfold with his very eyes. Had felt the boy's body lose its posture, heard the crack. He had no excuse.

_It was his fault._

"Derek?"

He knew that voice. So kind, so gentle, so _caring_. So _foreign_ to him. He still hesitated when he heard it. He still paused, wondering if he was in the wrong despite the warmth. Still, he was worried that if he made the wrong move, he would be hurt. He still wasn't certain, wasn't sure if there was another reason that he had that he didn't know about. He was still guarded, still protected and yet . . . it was so comforting.

He grunted in response.

The man looked down and tried to look the teenager in the eye, but his shield of black hair prevented eye contact. "You don't have to look at me, just listen," he said slowly. "This was _not_ your fault."

Derek turned away from him, holding back a scoff.

"I'm serious, this was not your fault. You didn't know any better and you didn't know what would happen. It's instinct," he slowly tried to ease away Derek's tense posture, but still, Derek's hands clutched the chair and his eyes shut tightly, refusing to look at the man.

"May I speak to-Derek, was it?" the doctor asked, holding a clipboard in hand and Derek fought not to bear his teeth and growl at him to stay away from him.

Kit was safe. Kit was nice. This man, this man was like all the others. He was faking a smile, he didn't care; he was doing his job. He was being a doctor, which meant he had to be the bearer of bad news and let others know how to help them get rid of the flu. He didn't actually care and Derek had learnt how to tell what most people were thinking by the look in their eyes.

This man was a liar.

"You may speak to Derek with me present," Kit told the man and Derek still didn't quite understand it. He was nice; _too_ nice to be human and the way he protected him as though Derek was one of his own- it didn't make sense. They didn't have protective instincts like he did. They didn't care for his kind. They didn't bother to know them like he did. They didn't take them in and care for them like he did. He was not like them.

"Okay," the doctor said, clearly unhappy from the frown on his face but he smiled soon after so that one who wasn't paying attention would think it was a trick of the light but Derek was paying attention. Derek always paid attention. The man bent down to Derek's level so they could speak face to face. "Do you have any idea how that boy's spleen could've bent that way?"

Derek inwardly sighed. They were going to take him away; he knew it. They were going to put him into another one of those awful homes where they weren't nice to you and he would be considered a freak, not that he wasn't now and when the time came for them to take him away, he would miss Kit. For the first time, he would miss someone, someone who, though he was still skeptical of them, he cared for.

"I-"

"Derek saw the fight happen," Kit cut in. "He saw the boy stumble and be hit in the chest by the ball, knocking the wind out of him and he crashed into the pole. It was all an accident. The pole was harsh on his back."

What had just happened?

"And do you testify?" the doctor asked skeptically.

"I-" Derek looked at Kit, who was winking at him. Was that another social cue he didn't understand? It looked like he was telling him to continue the lie, but surely, couldn't lying over a case like this end him in jail? "Yes," Derek said finally.

"And your name is?" the doctor asked, probably wanting it for his files, possibly to add him to the mysterious case of the boy.

"Derek," Derek said. "Derek Souza."

"And what is your relation to this man?" The doctor nodded towards Kit.

What _was_ his relation with this man?

They weren't enemies; enemies didn't put roofs over your head. They weren't acquaintances because he had made far too many accommodations for Derek to just be someone he knew. They weren't exactly friends because Derek didn't talk to him about many things, not like he talked to Simon. They weren't anything beyond . . . a strange, mutual agreement they had settled.

"He's my son."

_Son?_

Derek stared at Kit, confused. Kit was . . . _adopting_ him? He thought what he had with the Baes was temporary. He thought they were giving him hospitality and then would send him off somewhere and he would be left alone again. He counted on it, making no plans to stay too long, not to get too comfortable but he and Simon had developed a friendship despite his best efforts. He was their charity cause.

"Your son?" The doctor was clearly confused. Derek was sure this was an insult. The Baes were beautiful people; they had pretty faces and thin figures. Derek was lanky and tall and he felt like an alien standing next to the family.

"Yes, my son," Kit said, as though this was not up for argument. He took Derek by the arm gently, unlike how _they_ had directed him and lead him towards the exit.

Once they were outside, Derek wanted to talk about it. He wanted to understand what was happening. He wanted to know why Kit had said he was his son. But he didn't speak. He didn't say anything. Simon got out of the car and looked at Derek apologetically.

"It was all my fault," Simon said. "I am so sorry Derek-"

"No," Derek cut him off. "No."

Simon swallowed, looking like he had nearly cried inside the Sedan, waiting for them to come out of the hospital. "No," Simon agreed, but he didn't fully see eye to eye with Derek. He still blamed himself. He just wouldn't tell Derek that.

"Simon, get in the car, I'm going to talk to Derek for a moment," Kit told him gently.

Simon nodded and got back into the car, buckling up in the backseat of the Sedan.

"Derek," Kit said, turning to Derek.

"I did it," Derek said finally, letting him say what he had been thinking. "I broke his spleen, why aren't you yelling at me?" He didn't like not understanding things. It infuriated him to no end. "I don't understand. They say he'll never walk again. How can you not be angry at me?"

"It wasn't your fault, Derek," Kit said softly. He got down to the child's level and looked him in the eyes, but Derek turned away. "Derek, look at me."

Derek continued to look away.

"Okay, don't look, but listen." Kit ran his hands down Derek's arms in a comforting way, not that Derek would ever admit it. "It was _not_ your fault. It won't _ever_ be your fault. You were provoked, the boy shouldn't have been saying what he had been saying."

"He didn't deserve it," Derek said, still looking away.

"I'm not saying he did," Kit said gently. "I'm not saying any actions performed today were excusable, but that doesn't mean they can't be forgiven. This was merely an accident. We'll work on it, all right? When you get angry, or upset, tell me and we'll find something else you can do instead of taking it out on others," he told him softly.

Derek still wouldn't look at him, but his shoulders sagged and the tension left his body slightly. Not by much, but enough for Kit to know he was listening. To know that he was getting through to Derek. He did mumble though what he thought to be the million-dollar question, "Why did you lie?"

"When the man asked you what you were to me, you looked so surprised at my answer." Derek stared at the ground. "What were you going to tell him, huh Derek? What were you going to say I was to you?"

Derek flinched. He knew that Kit was slightly hurt; it was in his voice. But couldn't he see it as Derek saw it? That he didn't belong with his family? That all he did was cause this? Rushing to the hospital because of some childish fight? That boy . . . he would never walk again.

"Derek, what do you think you are to me?" Kit asked him, sounding like he really wanted him to answer, yet he continued to talk. "Because, here I was, thinking that we had a system working here, an unwritten agreement. Were you going to say you were my charity cause?"

Derek's mouth drew into a thin line. He wouldn't admit that was what he had been thinking.

"That's too bad Derek, really," Kit told him. "Because," he leaned back down and for the first time ever in this conversation, Derek looked at him, feeling this was something important. "You're my son."

The window to the car opened, Kit having left the keys inside. Simon stuck his head out. "Does this mean Derek's my brother?" He sounded so happy at the prospect, that Derek felt like this was all a dream.

"Yes Simon, Derek is your brother," Kit said, laughing at the goofy grin on Simon's face. "Now Derek, get in with your brother and we'll start working on controlling that temper of yours when we get home, alright?"

Derek nodded numbly and opened the car door, sliding into his seat next to Simon.

For the first time in his life, Derek felt like they were exactly what he thought he'd never have.

A family.


End file.
